


Yet I Will Try the Last

by FestiveFerret



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Explicit Sexual Content, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Suprisingly Sweet for a Hookerfic, Unnecessary References to Shakespeare, hooker steve
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-30
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-05-15 23:44:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14800208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FestiveFerret/pseuds/FestiveFerret
Summary: A hint of a smile played with the edges of the man's mouth. "Well, I've had a bit of a day."Steve smiled. He stood up and cocked his hip against the edge of the bar, leaning into the edges of the other man's boundaries. "Treat me right and I can give you a bit of a night too."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by The Truck Stop Hooker photoshoot. [You know the one.](http://thechrisevansblog.blogspot.com/2009/03/flashback-tony-duran-photoshoot-for.html)
> 
> This is for my "Sassy Steve" square on MCU bingo and "Sharing Clothes" on Stony bingo.

Steve shifted on his stool, frowning at the dingy barroom. Even the jukebox was boring as shit tonight. Couldn't anyone with a spare quarter think of anything more interesting than "Don't Stop Believing" to play? Christ.

Tonight was a bust anyway. The wild wind storms meant fewer people passing through town, and strangers were the only way Steve made any money. Not that he wouldn't fuck a local, just that they were all as poor as he was.

He knocked back the rest of his drink, wincing when ice cubes unstuck themselves and tumbled against his lips, then turned to go.

The door opened before he could push himself up off his stool, and the most beautiful suit Steve had ever seen walked into the bar, wrapped, with perfectly-tailored perfection, around the most beautiful man Steve had ever seen. His dark hair was swept up from the wind in a way that managed to look gorgeously on purpose, and his goatee was even and clean and drew the eye to his angular cheekbones. The man shuffled over to the bar, sunglasses untouched on his face and collapsed into the seat next to Steve with a sigh. He waved a finger at the bartender and ordered a drink in a low voice.

"Wow," Steve said, still hovering halfway off his stool.

The man turned, as if noticing Steve for the first time. "What?"

"We don't usually get suits like that in a place like this."

A hint of a smile played with the edges of the man's mouth. "Well, I've had a bit of a day."

Steve smiled. He stood up and cocked his hip against the edge of the bar, leaning into the edges of the other man's boundaries. "Treat me right and I can give you a bit of a night too."

The man watched him for a long time, long enough that Steve had to resist the urge to shuffle where he stood. On another night, when plenty of lonely assholes would toss him fifty bucks for a blowjob in the bathroom, Steve would have rolled his eyes, flipped this guy off for wasting his time and moved on, but tonight, this was the only chance he was going to have to make rent this week.

Finally, the man finished his careful appraisal. He tugged off his sunglasses and revealed bright, clever, brown eyes and a wicked black eye. "How right?" he asked.

"Three hundred."

The man snorted, and Steve worried he'd pushed it too far, but then the man smiled indulgently. "Is it always three hundred or just for a suit like this?" His drink arrived, and he knocked back the whole thing in one go then tossed a fifty on the bartop.

Steve smirked, pushed a little closer. "Just the suit."

The man hummed, consideringly, but his hand twitched out, and he hooked a finger through one of the belt loops on Steve's jeans. He guided Steve closer until he could lean in and whisper, "You got a place we can go?"

"Yeah, my apartment is just around the corner," Steve said. "You got a name?"

"Tony. You?"

"Steve."

They didn't shake hands, and their gazes didn't unlock.

Tony's fingers twitched against Steve's hip. He pulled his phone out with his other hand, stared at it for a moment, scowling, then tucked it back in his pocket. "Alright. I need to lie low tonight. How about five hundred, plus the suit, and you trade me for something a little less conspicuous to wear and put me up for the night?"

Steve laughed. "What on earth would I do with a suit like that? It won't even fit me, not that I'd have anywhere to wear it."

Tony shrugged. "You can sell it. It's worth at least a thousand bucks, even used. I need to blend in better, but I can't be seen in a store, and I can't use my cards right now."

Steve's eyes narrowed. He shuffled back a bit, nudging up the brim of his baseball hat. "How you gonna pay me, then?"

Tony's eyebrows shot up. "Brooklyn, huh? Only comes out when you're pissed off." He laughed when Steve frowned. "I've got cash. I'll pay you as soon as we get to your place. Up front."

Steve nodded slowly. Honestly, that was better than he usually got. More than once, he'd had to chase some asshole down the street and shove them up against a wall to get paid. More than once, he'd gotten stitches instead. He fluttered his eyelashes at Tony. "Pay my tab as a sign of good faith?" He ran the tip of his tongue along his bottom lip. Even if this guy turned out to be full of shit, he'd have drunk for free, at the very least.

Tony snorted again then tossed two more fifties on the bartop without asking how much it would have been. Steve tried not to gape, but the bartender had no such control. She scooped the bills up and stared openly at Tony. He pulled his sunglasses back on, gave her a nod, then, in a surprisingly gentle gesture, grabbed Steve's hand and led him out of the bar.

When they hit the sidewalk, Tony curled in around himself, away from the wind, and Steve shifted to put his body between the street and Tony's, creating a windblock. He was used to the cold.

"Well?" Tony said. "Lead on, Macduff."

Steve shoved his hands in his jacket pockets and set off down the street, and Tony pressed in close against him, one arm tucked through the the crook of Steve's elbow. When he started to shiver, Steve held his pocket open and raised a questioning eyebrow at Tony. Tony frowned, but shoved his hand in the pocket with Steve's, winding their fingers together. He was like ice. Steve squeezed his hand.

"You know the quote is actually, 'Lay on, Macduff.'"

"What?"

"The quote. People always get it wrong," Steve said, memories of his mother ranting at the dinner table, a vision surrounded by reference books, glasses pushed up on top of her head, shoved into his mind. She was a nurse, but literature was her passion.

Tony hummed, then said, softly, the wind nearly whipping his words away before Steve could catch them, "Lay on, Macduff, and damned be him that first cries, Hold, enough!" He looked up from the sidewalk to meet Steve's gaze, eyes bright and full of something heated and challenging. It fizzed under Steve's skin.

They walked the rest of the way in silence - it wasn't more than a few blocks to Steve's apartment. He kicked a brick over and dug his key out from underneath, then led Tony up the back fire escape to his door.

"Really?" Tony curled his lip. "You just showed a perfect stranger where your key is. I could come back and rob you anytime."

"Feel free." Steve shrugged, flicking on lights and ramping up the thermostat. He dropped his jacket on the lone hook by the door. The heater buzzed to life. "Nothin' worth stealin' anyway."

Tony shot Steve a predatory grin and slunk closer, giving off waves of sexual tension despite his blue lips and the slight shaking of his lean frame. "There's that Brooklyn again."

Steve laid it on thick. "Keep bringin' it up, and I'll think ya like it or somethin'." He smirked.

"Maybe I do…" His eyes raked over Steve's body, scraping down him from head to foot, unabashed and appreciative. Steve shuffled closer, rubbed his hands up and down Tony's upper arms to warm them. He leaned in and pressed their lips together, and Tony melted into the kiss.

Then he pulled back. "You don't have to do that," Tony murmured. He dug his wallet out and handed Steve five hundreds, sleek and unwrinkled. It was the cleanest money Steve had ever held. "I really meant it when I said I just need a place to hang out for the night."

Steve didn't push, but he looked up from under his eyelashes and smiled, as invitingly as he could. He wasn't used to having to work for it. "What else are we going to do all night? Braid each others hair and watch the faucet leak? I don't even have a TV."

Tony didn't back off as Steve slunk into his space again. "You know, I noticed that faucet when I came in. I could fix that for you."

Steve brushed their noses together. "Or…" He kissed Tony again.

But Tony was still tense and uncertain under his hands. He gave to the kiss, grabbing Steve's belt to tug their bodies tight together, but there was some hesitation still stiffening his spine.

"It's okay, Tony. You can have whatever you want. I'm happy to give it to you." He ground his hips forward so Tony could feel his rapidly growing erection pressing into his stomach.

Tony froze. "Anything?"

Steve eased off a bit. "Why? What do you want?"

"I - I like…" Tony's fingers trailed down Steve's chest then wrapped around his hip bone. "I like control." He flashed his eyes up to Steve's. "I won't hurt you but I like to have my way. I get pushy sometimes."

Steve studied him carefully for a moment, weighing his options. He was pretty sure Tony would back off if he said no, heck it had taken a crowbar to get him to agree to the sex he'd paid for. And it wasn't like the thought of Tony dominating him wasn't making Steve's pants unfairly tight. But it was risky to do with a client, a stranger. Still, for some unfathomable reason, he trusted Tony. "You'll stop if I say stop?"

"Of course. I'm only going to enjoy it if you are."

Steve took three steps backwards. He tugged his shirt off then worked his belt open, letting the ends hang loose while he unbuttoned his jeans. He rolled the zipper down, revealing the waistband of his white boxer briefs, but he didn't take them or his jeans off. He dropped to his knees on the old shag rug that covered the floor around his bed then rolled his eyes slowly up from the floor to Tony's face. He let out a breath. "Well, then. Lay on, Macduff."

Tony crossed the rug in three quick steps and stopped in front of Steve, close enough that his toes touched the inside of Steve's thighs. He scraped his nails over Steve's scalp, running his hair through his fingers. "Fuck, you're so goddamn pretty," Tony muttered, and a flush of heat prickled down Steve's chest to his cock.

Tony took one hand out of Steve's hair and stroked his thumb over Steve's bottom lip. He levered his mouth open, and Steve took his thumb between his lips, sucking lightly, a promise and a tease. He kept his eyes fixed up on Tony's.

"Bet you suck cock like a fucking champion, don't you?" Tony said softly, urgent but controlled.

Steve nodded.

"Had enough practice, haven't you? You're so filthy." Tony's fingers tightened in Steve's hair.

He flushed again, skin tingling with heat. The way Tony said it wasn't an accusation, wasn't degrading, it was _appreciative,_ and yet still, a fiery, smouldering kind of humiliation flickered to life in Steve's belly. No one had ever talked to Steve quite that way before. He'd been told he was dirt, nothing, useless, worthless. He'd been accused of all manner of things from stealing to dealing to turning homophobic dickholes temporarily gay with his pretty eyes and tempting mouth.

But what Tony was whispering, fingers of one hand still caught in Steve's hair, the other hanging over his chin as he sucked his thumb, these words were electric, laden with want and illicit temptation. _Desire._ Tony thought he was filthy, and he wanted that for himself, wallowed in it.

"Such a pretty slut." Tony hesitated, only for a heartbeat, but Steve noticed. It was the moment that Steve could glare, bite down even - just a little - let him know he didn't like it. But his cock throbbed heavy between his legs, and Tony's low, liquid voice was filling up his head and making him dizzy and muggy and _god,_ so horny. If Tony hadn't arrived after Steve's last drink, he'd wonder if he'd been drugged.

Steve hummed in agreement and sucked harder, rolling his tongue around Tony's thumb, showing him how good he could be. He wanted to be so good for Tony.

"Do you have condoms?" Tony asked.

Steve nodded. Tony pulled back, giving Steve space to suck in a clear breath again, but when he moved to stand, Tony reached out and settled one finger on Steve's shoulder, pinning him to the floor. "Like that," Tony said.

Steve kept his eyes on Tony as he shuffled across the rug on his knees, his undone pants slipping down over his ass and catching around his thighs. Tony's gaze was fixed on Steve's body, tracing the curve of his waist and the clenching and releasing of his abs but ignoring his face. Steve had been hooking for four years, and he'd never felt so mouthwateringly objectified before in his life.

Tony settled on the edge of the bed while Steve pulled open the drawer of the end table and took out a strip of condoms. He threw them on the bedspread, then placed a bottle of lube conspicuously on top of the table. Tony leaned back on his elbows, legs spread over the edge of the bed and looked at Steve then at his own crotch.

Steve didn't need to be told once.

He crawled up between Tony's legs and went to work on his clothes. He pushed Tony's jacket off his shoulders then worked his way down the buttons of his shirt, revealing a lean but chiseled chest and shapely abs with just the slightest soft layer over top. He undid Tony's belt and then his pants. Tony lifted his hips and let Steve strip everything off, leaving him naked from the waist down, with nothing but his open shirt on above.

Steve took a moment to enjoy the view then bent down to kiss his way up the inside of Tony's thigh. Tony's cock was hard, a drop of precome leaking from the slit, and Steve settled his hand around it, stroking loosely, slowly, just enough to keep him interested. Tony moaned softly and tipped his head back, only to bring it back up to look down and watch. Steve pressed his face into the crease of Tony's hip and breathed in. He smelled good. Like expensive body wash, fancy enough that it almost smelled like nothing, but there was this underlying mouthwatering spice he caught. It melded so seamlessly with his skin that Steve wondered if Tony didn't just smell that good naturally.

Before he could get sucked into testing if Tony tasted that good too, Steve grabbed a condom and opened it. He rolled it down over Tony's cock then followed it with his mouth. Tony let loose with a string of curses that made Steve drop his hand to press against his cock and slow the roll of arousal that plowed through him.

Steve knew how to get a man off. He knew how to work his lips and tongue, he knew how to apply the right suction, he knew when to back off a little and when to push. He'd gotten good at bringing his clients right to the edge fast enough that he made good money but thorough that they felt like it was worth what they paid.

But in the face of Tony's pleasure, all of Steve's gifts for efficiency evaporated. He forgot about getting Tony off and sunk into the bone-deep satisfaction of the cut-off gasps Tony made when he sucked him down his throat, the tightening of long, powerful fingers in his hair when he darted his tongue out as he pulled back, and the twitching of the small muscles in Tony's legs when Steve ran both hands up his thighs.

"Oh god, you're such a filthy little cocksucker," Tony breathed, his fingers tightening again in Steve's hair. "You're so good at that, shit. I could stay like this all night, just hold you here -" his hand demonstrated how easily he could "- make you suck me all night."

Steve moaned around Tony's cock at the thought. His own erection throbbing between his legs. Shit, he was going to come just from sucking Tony off, and if that wasn't embarrassing, he didn't know what was. But he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to remember the score of the last game he'd listened to on the radio and the rush of oncoming pleasure receded again. He focused on the feel of Tony, heavy and hot on his tongue, and the subtle twitches of his fingers that guided Steve's movements.

"Let me -" Tony said, then cut himself off.

Steve sat back, flicking his eyes up to Tony's. He could see there what he wanted. It flushed over his skin, banishing the last of the cold. Lots of guys wanted it, but Steve didn't trust any of them not to choke him, hurt him, so he always made sure he kept some degree of control. But reason and logic and fear were banished in the face of the careful way Tony regarded him from the bed, a soft plea, a dark promise, and Steve nodded.

Tony sprung to his feet as Steve settled back, legs kicked out in front of him, leaned against the edge of the mattress. Tony petted his fingers along Steve's jaw and through his hair, then gently levered his mouth open with his thumb again. He stood over Steve, looming above him with a foot on either side of his hips. Tony pressed on the back of Steve's tongue for moment, eyes locked. He radiated unyielding authority, and Steve melted slowly into a new kind of peace. Tony could do whatever he wanted; Steve would like it. He closed his eyes and opened his mouth wider.

Tony pressed his cock between Steve's lips then rocked back until he was almost all the way out. The next thrust was rougher, and he held Steve's face still with hand on either cheek, rocking in and out of his mouth progressively faster and firmer.

Steve let his eyes fall shut and sunk into the relief of letting go of control. Despite Tony's firm hands, he was gentle, being sure never to push past the edge of Steve's ability to take him. He clearly didn't want Steve to choke - the way a lot of men did - he just wanted to be the one controlling his own pleasure, their pace, and Steve was happy to give it up this time.

Tony kept talking, spilling praise and curses and telling Steve how deliciously filthy he was over and over. Steve focused on the rise and fall of his voice, the warmth of Tony's thighs under his hands where he'd rested them. Steve was sweating now, hot and flushed all over. His cock ached to be touched, and he knew he could drop a hand and sneak it in his pants, but he didn't want to, not until Tony told him.

But Tony was only focused on himself, right now, fucking into Steve's mouth and down his throat with an ever-increasing franticness. "Shit, Steve." Tony fell to his hands, braced on the mattress, arcing over Steve. His legs shook but he didn't slow his pace. Spit dribbled down Steve's chin, and he swallowed, not wanting to choke. Tony tipped up onto his toes then he pressed forward and came with a groan, spilling into the condom with one hand on the mattress behind Steve's head and the other hauling back on Steve's hair.

Steve quirked an eyebrow up like, "Was that it?" and Tony laughed. He pulled free and tugged off the condom. He petted his fingers through Steve's hair, soothing his abused scalp.

"We've got all night, don't we?" Tony said, and Steve swallowed heavily. He pressed his palm to his cock. Fuck, Tony was going to leave him like this. He groaned and tipped sideways onto the rug, and Tony laughed again. "You're something, aren't you?" he said, under his breath.

Steve got up to wash the taste of condom out of his mouth, and Tony dug around in his discarded pants until he came up with his phone. He poked at it for a while, then dialled a number and spoke in rapid, fluid Italian for a few minutes. Steve tried not to stare. Tony became more mysterious with every passing minute. Steve drank a cold glass of water from a chipped mug and willed his erection to subside. Tony clearly planned on having his way with him a few times before Steve got to come. If he'd let him come at all.

"Hey, Steve, what about those clothes?" Tony asked.

"Oh yeah, sure." Steve opened his closet, or rather, kicked aside the bin of old books that blocked his closet and dug around inside. He found a t-shirt that was too small for him now and a pair of jeans that he liked but would probably look better on Tony anyway. With the money Tony was paying him, he could buy another pair. He tossed them over, and Tony pulled the jeans on but left his dress shirt unbuttoned over his chest instead of putting on the t-shirt.

Tony stood and walked over, stroking his palm over Steve's chest, then teasing two fingers into the waistband of his underwear. Steve swallowed heavily and tried not to rock against Tony's forearm. When the knock on the door came, they both jumped.

"I'll get it!" Tony said, and he wrenched the door open before Steve could stop him. The mouthwatering scent of tomatoes and garlic wafted in with the cool outside air and filled the tiny studio apartment. Tony traded a wad of cash for far too many white, plastic bags, thanked the driver at the door, then turned back to Steve. "I was hungry. You don't mind Italian, do you?"

Steve's stomach rumbled in reply. He'd been living off rice and mysterious things in cans for so long. The drinks at the bar, justifying his presence there, were sometimes the most calories he got in a day, and if it weren't for Daisy the bartender testing her bizarre health-food smoothies on him, he wouldn't be able to get enough protein to keep the physique that pulled him more Johns than anything else.

But Tony kept unpacking container after container like it was nothing, like it was normal, and Steve's stomach ached with a different kind of desire.

"Don't just stand there with your teeth in your mouth," Tony said lightly. "I sure as shit can't eat all this on my own. Plus you'd better carb-a-load for round two." He winked.

When Steve didn't reply, Tony settled a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, you alright?" He petted Steve gently. "I'm just kidding, you know. We don't have to go again if you don't want to. Only you seemed to have a good time, and I've got plans for that undoubtedly gorgeous dick of yours, but no pressure. I'm just shelling out for the crash pad, everything else is icing."

Steve blinked back into himself. "No, no. It's not that… I just forgot you could, like, order food, and it would just appear…"

Tony frowned. "Look, I get that the light living thing you've got going on here probably isn't because you read that minimalism was good for your chi in Chatelaine, but you're doing alright, right? Like, you're okay, Steve? You seem okay, but… I don't know how to -" Tony looked around wildly as if there'd be some rating painted on the wall. _Steve Rogers is a 5 out of 10 on the 'Alright' scale._

Steve shook his head. "I'm _fine,_ really. Sorry, I zoned out a bit there. I'm just... saving up for something, and I haven't had the spare cash for fancy takeout in a long time, that's all. It's nice. Really nice." He smiled at Tony, then reached out and squeezed his wrist. "Thank you." He crossed the kitchen and pulled out plates, forks, and paper towels.

Tony waved his hand dismissively, his cheeks pinking a bit. "Whatever, it's, you know. Gotta eat. Plus, like I said, carb-a-load, cause I plan to burn some calories with you, hot stuff. If you're up for it."

Steve made no promises. He did want to have more sex, quite desperately, really, but he also didn't want to say yes, and then have to back down later if he changed his mind. Tony sounded like he'd respect Steve if he said no, but he also didn't want to get his hopes up. Besides, Steve had to cling to the one last bit of control he had over this night, this wild, unexpected, off-the-rails night. It was starting to feel a little bit like a dream.

Also quite a bit like a date.

And Steve only had one slick move, and he rarely had the chance to use it. He shrugged to himself. Why the fuck not?

"Get your food and come with me," he said to Tony with a smile.

Tony quirked head in curiosity, but didn't ask, letting Steve take the reins for now. Steve hauled all the blankets off the bed then set them in a pile by the doorway to the tiny hall that split into the bathroom and the closet. He eyed Tony up for a moment then ruffled through his closet. He came up with two, large, cosy hoodies. He draped one over Tony's head. "Put that on."

"Bossy," Tony muttered with a smirk, but he set his plate down and tugged on the sweater, raising an eyebrow at Steve when the sleeves came down over his hands.

"You'll thank me in a minute," Steve said. He opened the hatch in the ceiling, over the bathroom door, and let the ladder fall down to the floor. He grabbed the armful of bedding and dragged it up then went back down for Tony and his own plate of food.

Everything looked incredible, so he piled his plate high with garlic bread and pasta and mysterious looking mushroom things in a very close relationship with a sinful amount of cheese. With his plate piled high, Steve urged Tony up the ladder.

"Is this where you keep your murder room?" Tony asked lightly, worked his way up awkwardly, one rung at a time, balancing his plate in one hand.

"Yup." Steve crawled up behind him.

Tony stopped at the top of the ladder, and Steve had to nudge him out of the way to bring the blankets up.

"Wow." Tony gazed out over the town. The building wasn't that tall but it was up on a hill, and the valley broke below them, the lights of downtown flickering in the growing dark. Steve had made a windbreak with an old panel of windows he'd found by the street one day, and if you sat with your back against the chimney, it was warm and cozy.

He fluffed up the blankets into a nest and drew Tony down with him. This way, they could see the lights flickering at the feet, and then, as the sun dropped all the way down, the stars would come out above them. It was movie-levels of romantic, and Steve tried to summon some discomfort about taking a client up here, but it seemed right. And Tony seemed to appreciate it.

"Nice murder room you've got up here."

Steve snickered. "Yeah, well I like my victims to have a nice view."

Steve folded one blanket then tucked Tony against his side and wrapped the other around their shoulders. He pulled Tony's hood up over his head, earning an eye roll. It took a few minutes, but eventually Tony relaxed, leaning into Steve's side and digging into his food, the too-long sleeve falling into his tomato sauce more than once.

The food was _incredible,_ and for a while, all Steve could do was eat and savour.

"So what are you saving for?" Tony asked, once they'd each slowed down. He picked an ignored olive off Steve's plate and stuck it in his mouth.

"Hmm?"

"You said you didn't order takeout because you were saving for something."

There was just enough disbelief under the words that Steve knew Tony had seen through his cover. He _was_ saving, but it was slow going. He scraped together what he needed to live on, and anything extra went in a jar at the back of the freezer, but it was awfully light still.

"Going home," he admitted quietly, surprising himself with his honesty.

"Brooklyn?" Tony asked.

"Yeah. I grew up there, but when my mom died I took off. Been kinda running wild since then but it's where I'd like to end up. Some day."

Tony nodded, but didn't say anything, picking at the remains of a meatball on his plate.

"What about you? Mister thousand dollar suit, speaks Italian, carries around hundreds of dollars in cash, but needs a hooker to put him up for the night, what's your story?"

Tony snorted. He set his plate down and leaned into Steve's side again. "Eh. You know how it goes. Been running the family business since my parents died. Sometimes things get to be too much and you need to take off for a bit. But there are eyes everywhere."

Steve leaned back to stare at Tony. Holy shit, was he really -

Tony looked up at his shock and snorted. "Not that kind of family business, you walnut. I'm in technology. I'm also in the tabloids a lot."

"Oh. I don't read that kind of thing," Steve said, trying not to make it sound superior. He couldn't _afford_ to read that kind of thing. He didn't even have internet on his phone. The only news he got was whatever he caught on the TV at the bar, and it was almost always on ESPN.

Tony laughed. "Yeah I could tell when you didn't recognize me."

"Sorry. Should I have?"

Tony shrugged. "Whatever. You lack context. I'm sure you'll figure it out eventually. But it's not like I'm Beyonce or some shit."

"Alright." Steve chuckled. The sun dropped low below the horizon, but the cocoon they'd made in the blankets was warm - almost too warm - so they felt no need to move. But as time ticked on, Steve felt the electricity between them crackle to life once more. Fingers slid over his thigh, and he bit his lip so he wouldn't gasp. He braved a glance at Tony out of the corner of his eye but he was still gazing serenely out over the rooftops, eyes hooded and body slack.

The fingers worked their way closer and closer to Steve's zipper, and he tried to regulate his breathing. This was another game, another of Tony's power plays, and Steve was rock hard already. Tony massaged the inside of his thigh, squeezing hard enough that it almost hurt. His fingers dug in, inches from where Steve's cock strained in his pants.

Steve swallowed hard and leaned back, shifting his hips forward the tiniest amount. But Tony noticed, and he smiled.

 _Fuck,_ that tiny quirk of his lips shot straight down Steve's spine like a rocket, and he had to ball his hands into fists to keep them from doing something drastic. Tony was so cool and relaxed, like he hardly cared, but his fingers were stroking up and down the inside of Steve's thigh now, barely brushing his cock on every upslide.

Steve was painfully, viscerally aware that Tony had come once already, and he had been denied. His cock ached, and he could feel his heartbeat thumping low and deep inside him. He was suddenly desperate to be fucked, desperate to have something filling him up and stretching him out.

But Tony, it seemed, had no interest in moving things along.

Steve let out a pained breath when Tony's palm stroked over his tented pants, then went back to petting his thigh, and Tony laughed. He turned, finally acknowledging Steve's presence, and pressed his lips to his ear. "Cry hold, enough," he dared.

Steve had two choices in that moment: give in or fight back. He fought back. He turned too, quickly, and caught Tony's mouth in a fierce kiss. Tony gave to it, moaning and slumping back against the bricks. For all his bluff and bluster, he really seemed to like giving in to Steve's kisses.

Steve curled over him, hooking one leg between Tony's and pressing forward, making as if he was giving Tony something to rub off against, while really pressing his own needy cock against Tony's thigh. He dipped his chin to hide his face and opened his mouth in a silent moan, but Tony caught him, now that he was no longer being distracted by kisses.

"Brat," Tony said fondly. "Get downstairs."

Steve all but fell down the ladder.

Tony came tumbling after, discarding the blankets in a messy heap at the bottom of the ladder and tripping into Steve's arms, trusting him to catch him. Steve did, and dragged both of them to the bed, mouths locked, tumbling down onto it in a mess of limbs. Tony rolled himself on top and threaded their legs together, driving up roughly between Steve's thighs.

"Mm, grind off on me baby. You're so desperate you'll do that won't you? You can't wait. You'll rut against anything like a fucking animal." Tony pressed harder, and Steve moaned, obeying, writhing and rutting and grinding against Tony, revelling in the rough friction. "You're such a filthy whore. You want it so bad, don't you?"

"So bad," Steve whined. He reached up and pulled on the sweatshirt he'd leant Tony, and Tony sat up, letting him tug it off. Steve stroked his palms over Tony's chest reverently. "God, you're gorgeous," he muttered.

He'd mostly been saying it to himself, hardly aware the words had spilled out, but Tony's eyes went wide with shock for a moment before he schooled them under control again. He pulled his knee away, and Steve whimpered.

"Strip," Tony said, standing up. He peeled his own clothes off quickly, clinically, his eyes glued on Steve.

Steve took his time. He stayed lying back on the bed so he had to squirm awkwardly to get undressed, knowing it would please Tony to watch him wiggle and writhe, eyes soft and belly bared. When he finally kicked his pants off and stretched out, naked, Tony didn't touch him right away. He raked his eyes over Steve's bare skin, seeing him fully exposed for the first time, and Steve lit up under his attention. His skin flushed and prickled, and he knew a blush of pink heat would be stretching down his chest and over his nipples.

His cock lay hard and heavy against his stomach, and he felt like it was getting impossibly harder with every heartbeat as Tony continued to do nothing more than stare openly at him.

"You gonna do somethin' about it?" Steve asked, flicking challenging eyes up to Tony from under his eyelashes.

Tony rumbled, eyes narrowing, and crawled forward over Steve's body. He paused at his stomach and bent down, nipping tiny, sharp bites up Steve's chest, each one making him suck in a breath and flinch. When Tony got to a nipple he wrapped his lips around it and sucked hard.

Steve's eyes rolled back in his head. Fuck, it was _never_ like this. Eighty percent of his sexual experience was calculating his next grocery order in his head while some horny, half-drunk, trucker fucked his mouth. The occasions when he'd had sex for fun instead of money had mostly been awkward or boring.

But Tony was all cool ice and crackling heat at the same time. He looked at Steve like he wanted to _devour_ him, not like he was a cheap hole to be used. But then, the filth he spilled out of his mouth, equal parts humiliating and thrilling. It was a twisted, heady contradiction.

Tony's thigh settled between Steve's legs, and he ground against it, no doubt leaving a wet streak, while Tony drew him into a hot, wet kiss. "I want to fuck you," Tony said harshly against Steve's mouth, then bit down hard on his bottom lip, making Steve gasp.

It was an out, a chance for Steve to say no without having to disobey a command, but he wanted it, wanted it more than he'd ever wanted anything. "Please," he whined, his voice taking on a desperation he hadn't intended and that he'd never heard from himself before.

Tony fumbled for the condoms and lube from earlier. He tore open the condom packet and set it aside then took Steve's hand and spilled lube over his fingers. He didn't say anything, but he rocked back on his heels and watched Steve pointedly. Steve sucked in a sharp breath then dropped his hand between his legs.

Tony's eyes followed the path of Steve's hand. He settled one hand on his own cock, stroking lightly, not making any sort of progress, but keeping himself hard.

Steve kept his eyes on Tony's, watching them darken and soften as Steve rolled the pads of his fingers around the rim of his hole then pressed inside. Tony swallowed, throat bobbing, and his grip tightened. Steve wanted a hand on his cock too, but he sensed that Tony would bat it away if he tried, and he didn't want to disrupt the way Tony was staring at him - like the rest of the world didn't exist, like a bomb could go off and Tony wouldn't notice.

Steve barely knew Tony, but it didn't take long to figure out he was smart. He had a vast capacity for attention, but every atom of it was focused on Steve. It made it hard to breathe. Steve pushed himself, working his fingers in deeper and stretching them wide. As badly as he wanted Tony in him, he also wanted to be nice and loose and ready so Tony could just slide in. He worked himself open until his arm was shaking with the urge to reach for his cock, but when he pulled away and looked hopefully at Tony, Tony shook his head slowly, dark, heated eyes locked on Steve's lube-covered fingers.

"Fuck." Steve's cock throbbed and a line of precome dripped down to his stomach. "Please, Tony," he tried. He shoved three fingers in his hole and fucked himself on them relentlessly. "Please, please."

Tony lasted a few minutes longer, but when Steve arched back on the bed and whined, high-pitched and drawn out, Tony finally batted his arm away and rolled a condom down his cock. He lined up and pushed in, and Steve breathed out with bone-deep relief to finally be filled up the way he needed. Tony was thick and hard and pressed all the way in until he was bottomed out without pause.

They swore in unison when Tony rocked back then pushed in again. His arms were shaking where they braced on either side of Steve's hips. Steve could tell he was holding back, waiting, uncertain.

"Tony." He waited until Tony's eyes met his then he dropped his lashes low, let his hands fall to the mattress and fist in the sheets. "Take me, please."

Tony growled, grabbed Steve's thigh in one hand and hauled him up into his lap. He bent over to press a bruising kiss to Steve's lips then slammed his cock deep inside him, rough and hard, not giving Steve time to catch his breath before he did it again. Tony's eyes flashed, and he bit down over Steve's nipple then set a punishing pace with his hips.

Bursts of pleasure rocketed through Steve's core, sparking up his spine. Tony thrust into him so relentlessly that the waves overlapped until he felt constantly on the edge.

"Cry hold, enough,'" Tony whispered in his ear with a growl, folding Steve's knees up and using the leverage to hit the angle that nailed his prostate with every thrust.

Steve whined and bit his lip. Tony's breath was hot and wet against his neck. He needed a hand on his cock so badly, but there was no room between them.

"You gonna say it, baby? You gonna tell me to stop? Come on, Brooklyn, admit it. It's too much for you, isn't it?"

"Oh my god," Steve whined, bracing his hands against the wall over his head. It _was_ too much, but in the best possible way. "Fuck me, Tony. I'm so close."

But apparently that, and the way Steve clenched his muscles and arched up into Tony, was enough to push Tony over the edge. "Nuh -" He slumped forward with a full-body shiver and collapsed, pulsing deep inside Steve.

Steve bit his lip and tried not to whimper. He was so close, painfully close, but Tony was paying for this, and he didn't owe Steve an orgasm. Maybe he even got off on denying him one, after all. Steve tried to sit up, to go through his normal routine - chuck the condom, helpfully find his client's clothes, then show them the way to the door. But Tony wasn't leaving tonight, which Steve had never experienced before. Also, he had his hand pressed firmly to Steve's chest.

"God, you were incredible," Tony murmured. "So beautiful, gave so good to me baby. I'm going to make you feel so good."

"Wha -?" Steve managed to get out, but then Tony was wriggling down his body, tearing open a new condom. He rolled it over Steve's cock and pressed his fingers deep in Steve's ass, pushing in and spreading wide, fucking him roughly without hesitation. Tony's fingers found Steve's prostate and pressed until he arched up off the bed with a cry. Then he sucked Steve down to the hilt. "What the fuck?" Steve cried it, utterly spun out.

Why in god's name was his _client_ sucking him off? It was unbelievable. It was hot and wet and tight, and he was so close already and fuck - fuck - fuck.

"Tony, shit -" he warned, batting uselessly at Tony's hair, searching for reason, logic, a handhold of some kind. Because he was losing grip, losing - something - _god._ He came in Tony's mouth, Tony's tight throat swallowing around him, three fingers buried deep in his ass. It rippled through him from head to foot, and his cries twisted into near sobs. Tony sucked him through it, then, when Steve fell limp, gasping in sharp breaths, he pulled off, tossed the condom aside and crawled his way up Steve's body.

Steve hooked an arm around Tony's waist on impulse, and Tony collapsed into the hold, sprawled over Steve's chest.

"Holy shit," Steve whispered, the words falling out before he had time to filter them.

He felt Tony grin against his neck. "No fucking kidding."

Steve had the strange impulse to thank him, and he wasn't entirely sure why.

They lay like that for a long time, before Steve said, "Shower?" and Tony nodded. They tumbled out of the bed, and Steve started the water. When Tony joined him in the bathroom, he was chewing his way through a piece of leftover garlic bread. Steve laughed and snagged a bite for himself. Tony stole a kiss in retaliation, and they ended up giggling and splashing and sharing garlicy kisses through the entire shower. The water was cold by the time they actually managed to focus on cleaning long enough to soap up and rinse off.

When they were out and clean and wrapped in towels, Tony backed Steve against the bathroom wall and bit a line of hickeys down his neck, sucking the water off his skin then gripping down with his teeth until his neck burned and throbbed. Steve fell limp against the wall, his wet hair dripping in his eyes. He let Tony devour him as long as he wanted.

Tony eventually worked his way back up to Steve's mouth and kissed him silly, pulling away from the wall to drag him back into the studio apartment. Steve traced his hands over Tony's bare chest, still feeling stupid and happy from his orgasm.

Tony picked up another piece of garlic bread and bit into it, eyes fixed intently on Steve. "You sure it's cool if I stay? I can probably find a hotel without being followed. It's late enough now."

Part of Steve wanted to know why he'd be followed, but most of him didn't care; he just didn't want Tony to leave. "Stay."

"You sure?" Tony looked more insecure than Steve had seen him all night, fiddling with the crust of the garlic bread, eyes downcast.  

"Wouldn't say it if it weren't true," Steve said, letting Brooklyn slip back in. When Tony looked up, Steve winked, and his beautiful smile shifted slowly back into place.

"Aright."

Steve grabbed the rest of the garlic bread, the blanket from the corner, and Tony and dumped them all in his bed. Tony tumbled back laughing as Steve piled the blankets on top of him.

Together, they made a nest, and Tony set up his phone with Netflix playing. It should have been weird, to intertwine with a man who was basically a stranger, in the same bed. Tony had paid him for sex and a place to crash, that didn't mean they needed to snuggle. But they both gravitated towards each other, without acknowledging it, and while the movie played, they curled up in a mess of limbs and bare skin. Steve was sure he wouldn't be able to get hard again for a few weeks after an orgasm that mind-blowing, but having Tony's heat searing up his side made his cock give a few interested twitches.

Eventually, it was sweaty and a little overheated under the heavy blanket, but it was better than the rapidly dropping temperature in the rest of the apartment, night bringing a chill with it. So, they stayed wrapped in the bed, watching movie after movie and talking softly over the boring bits, until Tony's breathing softened and slowed and his eyes drifted shut.

Steve turned the movie off and set Tony's phone aside then settled back in bed. Tony's eyes fluttered open again. "This was the most fun I've had in a long time," he said dopily, barely awake.

"Me too."

Tony made a face like he thought it was a line, so Steve dragged him in and kissed his forehead then settled him on his chest. Tony sighed with pleasure, and Steve let his eyes fall shut, his breathing slowly evening out to match Tony's.

It hadn't been a line.

**

Steve rolled over and blinked into the morning light with a groan. He'd been too out of it last night to think to close the curtains. He propped himself up on his elbow and squinted at Tony's side of the bed. Empty. "Tony?" No answer.

Steve swung his legs over, scrunching his toes in the soft pile of the rug. He leaned forward and peered down the hall but the bathroom door was open and the light was off. Tony was gone.

Stretching his fingers up towards the ceiling revealed every inch of him that ached with a pleasant soreness. He languished in the stretch, rolling his stiff shoulders out. It felt amazing. He padded over to the kitchen table, still blinking out the harsh morning sun, and his eyes fell on a white envelope stuck to the fridge with the Star Wars magnet Bucky had given him. It had _Macbeth_ scrawled across it in blue pen.

Steve opened the envelope and choked on nothing. He burst out the door and flew down the fire escape. "Tony!" He turned the corner. A dark silhouette leaned against the side of the next building over. He was wearing the shirt and pants Steve had given him last night, with his own dress shoes and the oversized hoodie from the roof over top. "Tony!" He turned; his eyes landed on Steve.

Steve pulled up beside him, panting heavily.

"You're not wearing shoes," Tony said, staring at his bare toes. Steve wiggled them.

Steve brandished the envelope. "I can't take this, Tony, it's too much." There was at least five thousand in cash in the envelope, in the same crisp, clean hundreds Tony had already given him.

He laughed, not mean or mocking, truly delighted. He leaned in and pulled Steve close, rubbing at his upper arm. The wind whipped around the lot, and Steve shivered. Okay, so he did wish he'd put on shoes.

"Trust me, it's really nothing. Take it. I want to contribute to the Return to Brooklyn fund."

Steve gaped at him. "Why?"

Tony hummed and hooked his fingers in the collar of Steve's t-shirt. He tugged him in for a soft, slow, deep kiss that curled Steve's toes in the gravel. "Let's say I have an interest in the matter." He kissed along Steve's jawline then nipped his earlobe, tugging down on it. He whispered into Steve's ear, the puff of air sending a shudder down Steve's spine that had nothing to do with the weather. "I live in Manhattan."

Tony pulled away with a wide grin, but Steve could only stare. Tony lived in Manhattan. He wanted to help Steve get back to Brooklyn. That meant… Tony wanted to see him again? Steve looked down at the envelope. "Is this -"

"It's not a downpayment," Tony said tartly, reading his mind. "It's a gift. But hey, maybe I'll see you around sometime. Thanks for the sleepover, Steve. I had a wonderful time." He drew Steve in for another kiss then pulled away.

A sleek, black town car appeared silently behind them, and Tony slipped into the back seat.

Steve smirked and waved the envelope at him. "Hey, Tony? Pretty sure you're Macbeth."

Tony grinned back. "Let's call it a draw."

Steve watched him go, bare feet glued to the pavement. Had that really just happened?

"Wait!" He took two pointless steps towards the car that was already pulling away. "You don't have my phone number!"

But Tony was gone. Shit.

Steve looked back at the envelope. He ruffled the bills and his heart skipped and skittered with each one. He'd never seen this much money in one place before. It'd be enough. Enough to get started anyway.

But even if he did get back to New York, how would he ever find Tony again? He knew his first name and that he lived in Manhattan. Along with two million other people. Helpful.

Steve walked back to his apartment, clutching the envelope too hard, worried the wind would grab it and whip it away, like none of this had ever happened. Inside, it was clear it had. Tony's clothes lay scattered across the apartment like they had exploded off of Tony's body instead of being removed. Steve started collecting the pieces, but halfway through he had to open the freezer, take out the envelope and check it again. Yup. Still there.

He rubbed his thumb over the hastily scrawled _Macbeth_ on the front and wondered what Tony had been thinking when he wrote it. His thumb caught some small change in the texture and he tilted the envelope, realizing it wasn't one of his, but one Tony must have had with him. It wasn't a bank envelope though, in the top left corner was an embossed logo.

Stark Industries.

Stark -

Tony… _Stark._

Steve had spent the night with Tony Stark.

"Holy shit," he said to the envelope, his hands shaking. He'd slept with Tony Stark, and he hadn't even known it. And now he had five thousand bucks and what he hoped amounted to an invitation to see him again, in the city.

Steve peered out the small window over the dusty lot for a moment, letting it all sink in. He dropped his eyes to the sink. The faucet wasn't leaking anymore. He turned on his heel, pulled his duffle out from under the bed and started to pack.

He was going home.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story was originally a one-shot I posted for bingo, but when I hit a celebratory number of followers, I offered to continue one story, and this one had the most votes. It's going to be long, and it's going to be sloooow to update, but I hope you like it. Here's chapter two!
> 
> Thank you to several lovely people who gave it a read over and found a plethora of horrible continuity errors. You're the real MVP.
> 
> And thank you to ashes0909 for being my beta always and for being my always, always.

The bus bounced and jerked over the uneven road, and Steve clung to the armrest, head smacking painfully against the window he'd been trying to use as a pillow. He wouldn't be getting any sleep at all on this trip.

That was particularly problematic, because Steve wouldn't be getting into New York until two in the afternoon and he'd barely slept the night before out of sheer anxiety. His plan to go back to Brooklyn had always been his goal, his ultimate fantasy, but he honestly never expected it to come true. And now he was uprooting everything because of one night with a slightly insane billionaire.  

Steve's fingers twitched towards the envelope of cash - now crumpled and folded - stuffed in the front of his pants, but he resisted the urge to check on it yet again. He didn't want to draw attention to a huge wad of money sticking out of his waistband. His eyes flicked across the aisle to a surly looking young woman slouched low in her seat.

The bus bounced again.

After three and a half weeks of trying to set up a place to go in New York, Steve could no longer deny that he was itching to see Tony again. He'd tried every excuse he could think of - he owed Tony another night for the money he'd given him, Tony had left something at his apartment, he wanted his hoodie back - none of it was true. The truth was that Tony had slipped under Steve's skin, somehow, and Steve didn't know how to get him out again.

The number of times he'd jacked off to thoughts of Tony's hand on the back of his neck was truly embarrassing. 

Tony probably didn't even remember him. It'd been one wild night, out of what the tabloids claimed to be a lot of wild nights for him, and the more Steve ( _ not _ obsessively) researched the man, the more he realized that dropping 5k on a hard-up hooker was akin to dropping a dollar in the hat of a quality busker for Tony. The night was changing Steve's entire life, and for Tony? It was almost certainly nothing at all.

Still, Steve wanted to go home, Tony or no, and this money was his chance. 

And yet, try as he might, Steve couldn't stop the fantasies from rolling through his mind in the rumbling dark of the bus ride. That Tony would remember him, want him, pay obscene amounts of money to have him again. Steve imagined riding into town to find Tony waiting for him at the bus stop, one of those sleek black cars idling nearby. He'd grab Steve's bag and throw it in the trunk then grab Steve's hair and haul him in for a filthy kiss. Steve could suck him off in the back of the car while they drove to Tony's fancy home. He'd keep him there, everything paid for, in the lap of luxury - and Tony's lap, too. 

Steve blinked his eyes opened and watched the endless fields roll by. It was a nice fantasy. 

But when the bus finally did pull up at the stop, no one was there to meet Steve. No one even knew he was coming - he had no one to tell. And even if Tony had known he was coming, did want to see him again, it'd be a covert text and a cab sent to get him, no filthy kisses at the bus stop in full view of everyone.

Steve shuffled off the bus with a few others, blowing warm air onto his hands as he waited for the driver to tug his duffle out from underneath. He threw the strap over his arm and set off for the subway, taking a moment to get his bearings. He hadn't been here in a lifetime. He'd gotten off the bus at an early stop, putting him on the edge of the city, instead of wasting his time beating his way to Grand Central with everyone else. But even after all this time, he knew it like the back of his hand, and it wasn't long before he was trundling off towards Brooklyn. 

Steve's stomach twisted with nerves as he hiked three blocks to the address he'd written carefully on a piece of paper tucked in his wallet. 

It was a shithole, but Steve hadn't expected anything else. He hauled himself up a fire escape to a faded, red door and hammered on it. All was quiet and then he heard muffled yelling. He knocked again. A moment later the door swung open and a high-as-fuck looking dude in a baseball cap opened the door. "What?"

"I'm Steve," Steve said. "Renting the room."

"Sorry bro, we're all rented up."

"Yes, I know. Because I took the last room. Steve," he repeated.

The guy blinked at him cluelessly.

"I called you, then emailed. We talked about the room. You said it was all mine if I came on the first with money. I'm here. With my money."

"Oh shit, sorry man." The guy shook his head slowly. "We rented it out already."

"What?"

"Yeah, some guy showed up yesterday with first and last so we gave it to him."

_ "What?"  _ Steve clenched his fist against his side. "You told me I couldn't come any earlier! We had a deal."

The guy shrugged. "No deal til money passes hands. Sorry, bud. Plenty of rooms for rent around here." He shut the door, and Steve let out a string of expletives his mother would not have been proud of.

He'd waited, turning tricks and eating away at Tony's money, because the  _ only _ place he could find that was in the city and affordable was this one. And they'd fucking pulled the rug out from under him. Everyone else needed proof of income and references from past landlords and all Steve had was an envelope of dwindling cash and a disconnected phone number for the guy he'd lived above back when Tony had found him. 

This late at night, his only option was a hotel - which would kill an entire month's rent in a couple of nights, a shelter - where he wouldn't be able to sleep anyway, for fear of having his stuff stolen - or picking up a John and hoping he could spend the night there - which was incredibly risky in an area he didn't know anymore.

Or he could take the subway right back to the bus station, buy a return ticket, and get the hell out of here. 

He didn't want to start turning tricks without getting a sense of the territory. That was a surefire way to step on someone's toes, get his ass beaten. And a broken nose and black eye were terrible for business.

Thinking about a black eye brought him back to Tony and the shiner he'd been sporting that night. He'd never told Steve what it was from. God, Steve just really wanted to see him again. He hiked his bag up on his shoulder and rattled his way back down the stairs to the alley. The subway stop wasn't far away, and when he trotted down the stairs to the platform, he found himself turning towards the F line, towards Manhattan. Towards the bus station, he told himself firmly.

But when the train rumbled into Grand Central, he found himself walking up the stairs and out to the street instead of finding a train schedule out of town. Because that was the only reason to be in Manhattan, right?

Stark Tower loomed up behind the stone front of the terminal, all curving glass and modern lines. 

It would be rude not to at least leave a message for Tony, right? If he didn't, Tony would think he'd taken the money and blown it or something. He was torn between wanting to prove to Tony that his faith in him was justified and not wanting to have to explain that New York just wasn't going to work out. But what were the odds Tony even remembered him anyway? He'd leave a note and then he'd leave town again, find somewhere cheap and easy and horny, where Tony's money would last a long time and it'd be simple to get more. And that would be that.

Steve crossed up to the front of the building and tried not to be intimidated by the sheer immensity of the building. He'd looked it up at the library after he met Tony, and apparently the top two floors were Tony's penthouse apartment. Steve craned his neck back. Must be a killer view. He wondered if Tony was up there right now. He probably wasn't. He was a busy international business man. He was probably in China or something.

Steve took a breath and pushed the doors open.

The reception area was vast, with huge three-story high ceilings and enormous windows. The marble tile was perfectly clean and shiny, and Steve instantly felt like a fly in someone's forty-dollar soup. He straightened his shirt and let out a tense breath as he approached the reception desk. It was late, so even though there were four seats at the large, half-moon desk, there was only one person behind it, a shockingly capable looking woman who couldn't have been more than twenty-five.

"Can I help you?" she asked, polite but cautious.

Steve knew he probably looked like a bum here to beg for loose change. "Um, yeah. Sorry. I know Tony Stark? I was hoping I could speak to him…"

Her face shifted slightly from concern to pity, and Steve felt his cheeks flush. "Do you have an appointment?"

"No… I never got his number. We, uh, met once, and he said I should hit him up if I was ever in the city. And, well, I'm in the city, but, uh… Yeah, he didn't give me his number."

"Riiight…" She drew out the vowel. She looked genuinely sympathetic now. "I'm afraid, I can't just -"

"Oh, of course, I know. It was stupid of me to think I could -" Steve's eyes alit on a pad of paper. "Can I write him a note? I mean, if I write a note with my number, would you give it to him? Then he can call me if he wants to but I won't be bothering him."

She considered him for a moment. "Sure. Write down your number and I'll pass it on."

Steve was one hundred percent sure that "pass it on" meant "pass it on to security so they know who to look out for," but he took the pad of paper and scribbled on it anyway

_ Birnam Wood be come to Dunsinane. -Steve 555-3689 _

He handed it over, open so she could see it wasn't anything threatening and that he didn't mind her reading it. He gave her a tight smile. "Thanks."

"No problem."

He walked out, dragging his feet to enjoy the heated lobby a little longer. But the bitter wind whipped all the pilfered warmth away the moment Steve stepped outside, and he drew his coat more closely around himself.

Now what?

His plan had been to lay low for a few weeks, get the lay of the land. He had $3500 left and $2k of that was for first and last rent, and a security deposit. He could probably keep his food expenses to $100 a month if he was careful, which left him a pretty good buffer, but money didn't stretch far in New York, and he'd need clothes and shoes eventually. 

He'd hoped to keep a couple hundred in his freezer in case business was slow in the winter but the way things were looking, he'd have to shell out for a hotel room until he found a new place to stay, and that was going to burn through his money like rocket fuel. So he had a choice: he could start hooking right away and risk his safety to pay for a hotel room while he looked for an apartment, he could spend the money and bank on Brooklyn being more steady and more spendy than back home, or he could live on the street while he househunted and wait to pick up Johns until he knew where he was going to stay.

Or he could buy a bus ticket and go to… anywhere.

Steve dropped his face in his hands and scrubbed them over his face. He was tired from the long bus ride, he was cold, and he was hungry. He stuffed his hands in his pockets. Well he could at least take care of two of those.

He was in too nice a part of the city to find somewhere cheap to eat, but after walking for a few blocks, he found an open diner on a corner and slid into a booth. The wall next to him was exposed brick, photos of 50's movie stars pinned up every few feet. The prices on the menu made Steve feel too sick to want to eat anyway, but it was warm and quiet here, and the leather-covered booth seat was comfortable, so he ordered a side of fries and a coffee and tried to look like he was waiting for someone. The pity on the waitresses face told him he hadn't been successful. 

Steve didn't know why he wasn't on a bus back right now. Maybe he'd rather be homeless for a few nights than suffer through another eight hours of stuffy, bumpy, highway. Maybe he was too stubborn to give up. 

Thankfully, the diner was quiet enough that the lone waitress didn't seem to mind that Steve had installed himself and didn't seem inclined to move. He stretched the fries as long as he could and the coffee even longer, but she kept topping up his water glass and even patted him on the shoulder once as she walked by, so Steve didn't feel the need to move. 

The staticy speakers started blaring Don't Stop Believing, and Steve grimaced. He'd spent two hundred dollars and given up his whole life to come here and it was no different. He was just as screwed, just as alone.

His phone rang.

It couldn't possibly be Tony, could it? God, maybe the receptionist had given his number to the police… "Hello?" he asked tentatively.

"Hey, Macbeth."

"Tony?"

"Uh, yeah. Why so shocked? You gave me your number, remember?" He sounded caught between amused and concerned. 

"Well, yeah, but I didn't think your receptionist was actually going to pass it on. I sounded like a lunatic stalker."

Tony laughed, and Steve willed down the flush that sprung up at the sound. "Honestly? I think it was so weird that she couldn't bear the curiosity. She tried to get me to explain, but I'm fickle."

Steve smiled down at his nearly empty mug.

"So you're in town, huh?" Tony's voice had dropped several octaves, the low purr rocketing Steve back to his knees buried in a shag rug, Tony's cock buried down his throat.

He coughed. "Uh yeah. In town. Took me longer to get here than I expected, but I finally made it."

"I'm glad. Where you staying?"

"I arranged a place in Brooklyn," Steve said lightly. It wasn't exactly a lie.

"You needed there tonight?"

Steve knocked back the rest of his coffee to wash down the sudden lump blocking his throat. "No…" He should be playing this. Tony could give him a place to warm up and money, but all Steve's finesse flew out the window. He didn't want Tony to see him like this, homeless and frustrated. He wanted to go anywhere but Tony's place while Tony's place was the only place he wanted to be.

"Come stay with me tonight."

Steve hummed. "I shouldn't."

"Why not? You showed me a good night, let me get you back."

"You did get me back," Steve pointed out. "Ten times what we'd agreed on, actually."

Tony laughed softly. "You were worth it. And then some. Come on, I could use the company. You eaten?"

Steve looked at the empty plate of seasoned fries he'd managed to nurse for two hours. His stomach rumbled. "No."

"Well, I'm about to order an obscene amount of food. Come over or it goes to waste."

"Tony…"

Tony sighed. "I don't want to push you, Steve. If you can't, you can't. But if you were planning on working tonight, just saying, I'll make it worth your while if you come here instead."

And there it was. Tony wanted to pay him for sex again. It wasn't like Steve could really argue that he'd been expecting anything else when he'd left the note, but it still felt like some flicker of hope had been extinguished, something he couldn't really put his finger on. He had no place to stay, no extra money to waste on a hotel, and nothing to do tonight. If he went to Tony's place, he could almost certainly find a way to spend the night, he'd be fed, have an incredible orgasm if last time was anything to go on, and he'd leave with his pockets padded.

He'd also fall a little more in love with the guy he'd been trying to pretend he didn't care about for the last three weeks.

"Okay. Give me twenty minutes."

"Amazing. Go to the south entrance and the door will open for you automatically."

"See you soon."

"I can't wait." Tony hung up.

Steve flagged the waitress down, gave her the biggest tip he could bear to part with, and stepped back out into the chilly night.

The tower looked even more imposing this time, looming out of the shadows cast by the street lights. Steve skipped the big, sliding glass doors and made his way around to the side of the building. The simple, metal door there made him feel more like a delivery than a guest, but he raised his hand to knock, wondering what his cover story should be, or if he'd even need to explain himself. But before he could touch his fist to the door, it swung open on its own, revealing nothing but the inside of an elevator.

Vibrating with apprehension, Steve stepped into the elevator. There were no buttons to push, but it started moving as soon as the doors closed, so he figured it only went up to Tony's apartment. Tony's penthouse apartment that had been featured in Architectural Digest and Vanity Fair. That apartment.

Steve shoved his duffle bag in the corner of the elevator. Maybe Tony wouldn't see it and he could leave it there until he left. It'd be safe in Tony's building, but he wouldn't have to explain why he had it. He fiddled with the change from his diner meal in his pocket, rocking up and down on the balls of his feet as the elevator rocketed upwards. A second later, he realized the torn envelope of money was still shoved down the front of his pants. Steve whipped it out and shoved it in his bag just before the elevator hummed to a stop.

The doors opened, and he tried to stop his jaw from hitting the floor, but he wasn't sure if he managed it. Tony was leaning against the kitchen counter, smiling in Steve's direction, but Steve couldn't tear his eyes away from the room long enough to get a good look at him. 

One entire wall was glass, curving along the edge of a massive living room, complete with a full wet bar. Somehow, everything managed to ooze executive VIP without being ostentatious. Stairs curved up out of Steve's view, and he caught sight of doors that implied that this was barely the beginning of the space. The city lights twinkled in the dark, like a sea of bioluminescent creatures spread out at their feet. 

"Steve?"

Steve shook himself out of his stunned blinking to finally look at Tony. He looked - he looked amazing, really. Even in jeans and a t-shirt, he was every inch the amazing suit that had waltzed into Daisy's bar, and into Steve's life. He was light years out of Steve's league, and damn it was good to look at him again. Since when had Steve thought about leagues and clients?

Since when had Steve wanted to see a client again so badly he'd crossed the country for him?

Steve swallowed, trying to summon up some of the charm he'd managed when they'd first met. "Hey, Tony."

But Tony's face fell a little, not the smirk and wink Steve was expecting. "You okay?" Tony asked. "You look a little rough."

Steve looked down at his outfit and blanched. He hadn't even thought about it, but he looked awful. Not the smooth suave hooker, not the man who had picked Tony up without a second thought. "Oh god, sorry. I'm such a mess. I was on the bus all day, and I didn't even think to change. Wow. That's -" He couldn't even think of the word. Unprofessional? Definitely. Horrible? Yeah. Embarrassing… no question.

But Tony smiled encouragingly and beckoned Steve in. "You got in today? That eager to see me, hot stuff?" He winked, and Steve found his smile again.

"Definitely."

"Well, no worries. The food isn't here yet so why don't you take a shower while I finish up a few work things, and then we can lounge around and -" his eyes flicked up and down Steve's body "- be indulgent."

"Is that okay?" There was a bit too much of a quality of crashing at someone's place - using Tony's shower and storing his bag in the elevator, and Steve wondered yet again if he should have just said no. But Tony steered him up the stairs towards the master bathroom, flicking on jets and tossing around bottles, and as soon as Steve had been stripped and shoved under the spray, everything melted away.

Steve had never even seen a shower so opulent. Multiple jets sprayed out of the tile wall and the ceiling, a dial increasing their strength until they could strip paint - or strip an eight hour bus ride off Steve's skin. He indulged in Tony's shampoo and body wash, holding the bottle up to his nose to smell the sweet hint of spice he'd licked off his skin last time they'd met. 

When he couldn't justify staying in any longer, Steve wrapped a towel around his hips and stepped out of the bathroom. He was certainly not going to put his same clothes back on, but he couldn't go to the elevator to get fresh ones out of his bag without revealing that he'd stashed it there. Not that it mattered. He assumed Tony didn't have many plans for him that involved clothes, anyway.

He padded through Tony's bedroom, resisting the urge to snoop a little, and leaned over the stair rail to find Tony in the kitchen below.

Tony looked up from the styrofoam containers laid out on the kitchen counter to rake heated eyes over Steve's bare, dripping skin. "Well, there's a sight for sore eyes."

"Wasn't sure it was worth getting dressed," Steve said with a smirk, trying to find his cool. He did this for a living. He could be charming.

"I wholeheartedly agree with that plan." Tony sauntered over to the base of the stairs and ran the palm of his hand flat over Steve's foot. "But I don't want you dropping hot noodles on your junk. Why don't you grab a robe from my bedroom, behind the door? Then I get the chance to see you in my clothes instead of the other way around." He winked.

Steve found the bedroom door again, letting himself look this time- and holy shit was that a huge bed - and easily found the robes on the back. He selected the biggest looking one and slipped into it. It was the softest thing he'd ever worn, thick and plush. By the time he reached the kitchen again, Tony had all the containers open and plates set with silverware on the table. The food smelled incredible, and Steve's stomach rumbled loudly. 

Tony gestured him down to the table, and Steve perched himself on one of the dining room chairs. He picked up his fork and clutched it like a lifeline, tense eyes glued to Tony as he settled across the table. He was starving, but anxiety was coming between him and the food. Tony started in, and Steve didn't want to seem ungrateful so he poked his fork into a pile of noodles and vegetables that smelled like garlic and ginger. 

After a few minutes of tense silence, where Steve had barely managed to taste his food, Tony sighed heavily. Steve looked up sharply to see Tony watching him sadly. 

"You're tired?" Tony offered. "Sick? Did I read this totally wrong? You didn't want to come over tonight. I pushed you. You want to leave."

It was the way they were statements instead of questions that had Steve shaking his head vigorously. "No, no. Of course not, Tony. I wanted to come over tonight. I'm -" Steve swallowed heavily. Tony pulled all this horrible honestly out of him. "I'm a bit overwhelmed," he finally managed. "I just moved here six hours ago, and the bus ride was awful, and - my living situation… isn't what I expected, and I honestly never thought you'd actually call me."

Tony watched him for a moment then stood, picking up his still mostly full plate. Steve watched in horror as Tony walked around the table. Was Tony kicking him out just for that? 

But he picked up Steve's plate as well and bumped his shoulder against Steve's. "Come on."

Steve followed him across the apartment to the inset living room and its soft carpet and wall of windows. Tony set the food right down on the white rug in front of the glass and sat next to it with his back braced against the back of the couch. Steve dropped himself down next to him. Their feet nearly touched the glass which ran right down to the floor. With the twinkling city lights, it felt like you could fall off the room into outer space.

"I don't think I've had as much fun as I did up on your roof in a really long time," Tony said, picking up a deep fried spring roll and holding it out towards Steve. Steve leaned over and wrapped his lips around the spring roll, tugging it out of Tony's hold. The couch was soft but secure against his back and the apartment was less daunting like this. It shrunk the space down to just a bubble around the two of them.

"Same," Steve admitted. The spring roll was crisp and flavourful and he found himself reaching for another one, and then his plate of noodles. "Your view is nicer, though."

They fell into silence that was comfortable this time, and Steve tucked into his noodles, realizing how hungry he really was when the first few bites settled in. He looked up after a few minutes and found Tony wasn't eating but was watching him carefully instead. "You sure you're okay, Steve?" Tony asked softly.

Steve set his fork down. "Yeah… I mean it's not exactly easy, moving here, but it's what I want, so I'll make it work." Steve traced the crease in Tony's brow with his eyes. "You don't have to worry about me, Tony." He gave him an encouraging smile. Tony still didn't look convinced, so Steve nudged him with an elbow. "What about you? Last time I saw you, you had a black eye and were wearing a hooker's clothes. You get back on your feet?" He grinned, and Tony laughed.

"I'm doing alright," Tony said, eye twinkling. "Back on my feet. Eye is a normal colour again. Still caught wearing a hooker's clothes once in a while, but only because that sweatshirt is really comfortable."

Steve flushed from head to toe at the thought of Tony wearing his clothes even now, weeks later. "Thought you might have thrown those out," he muttered. 

Tony shot him a look. "You're not getting it back. I paid for it, fair and square. You can have the pants, actually, because they're so long they make me look a bit like a hobbit. But the hoodie's mine."

Steve smiled down at his food, poking at a carrot with his fork. "I wouldn't dare try and take it back. You know… you never told me why you had a black eye that night. Or really… anything about what you were doing there."

Tony chuckled. "I didn't?"

"Nope. Mr. Mystery. I checked the papers for a while after, see if you popped up -" Steve didn't mention that he was also desperately searching for pictures "- but you didn't."

Tony seemed pleased to hear it, and Steve wondered if he'd given too much away. "Well, whenever it seems like I might show up on the front page, I find a shady place to sleep, so they never catch me," he teased. "Though you were probably reading the wrong kinds of papers. So, yeah. I was testing a new product for SI and maybe shot myself in the face a little bit."

"What?!"

"Yeah… I'm trying to use repulsor technology to develop, well a jet pack, basically, and during testing it went off and part of the boot slammed into my face."

"Tony!"

"Wow, that's exactly the same tone Pepper used when I told her. Uncanny." Tony's tongue peeked out from between his teeth. "I was in your neck of the woods the next day doing some material sourcing and meeting an old friend, but someone caught a picture of me with the shiner and posted a story online about how my boyfriend beat me up."

Steve's whole body tensed. Did Tony really have a boyfriend? That would explain why he was paying for Steve instead of picking up someone real. 

"Yeah…" Tony twisted away and fiddled with his fork. "My ex from a few years ago had some bad habits, some of which made it to the press, so as soon as they saw me sporting that, it was all - 'Tony's gone back to Ty and he's getting beat up.' I didn't want to draw attention to the friend I was visiting - that would be a whole different story - so I needed to lay low for a while. I left my bag at the hotel and slipped out, found your bar." Tony turned bright eyes on Steve. "I'd intended to find a hotel cheap enough that I could bribe the front desk to stay quiet about me being there… but then I met you instead."

Steve found himself speechless in the face of Tony's 100-megawatt attention. "Oh…" he breathed.

Tony ran his hand up Steve's calf to tease at the hem of the robe. 

"This boyfriend?" Steve asked breathlessly. "He -?"

"Haven't seen him in years. Well, that's not true. We run in the same circles so I do see him sometimes, at parties and stuff, but he's harmless. But I haven't seen him on purpose in years. Why?" Tony shifted closer. "Jealous?"

Steve swallowed hard and leaned back, offering himself to Tony. "Yes," he said, and Tony's eyes snapped to his, then he smiled.

Tony tugged on the end of the robe tie, and it fell open, revealing a strip of Steve's stomach down to his bare cock, hardening quickly under Tony's hungry gaze. His fingers wandered up the inside of Steve's thigh, and Steve set his plate aside, bracing his hands on the carpet behind him and spreading his legs to give Tony unfettered access. 

"Is this okay?" Tony asked, curling in towards him, his plate abandoned as well.

Steve nodded, hands finding Tony's hips and guiding him up until he straddled Steve's lap. Tony tipped him backwards onto the carpet, grinding down and drawing a line of kisses along his jaw. 

"Hey, Steve?" Tony breathed into his neck.

Steve struggled to find the oxygen to reply. "Yes?"

"Do you want this to be… like last time?" Tony said significantly.

And Steve knew he should remind Tony that he was paying so it was up to him what they did, but all Steve could do was moan  _ "yes"  _ at the thought of Tony taking him, claiming him, owning him, like they'd done three weeks ago.

Tony groaned in reply, rutting against Steve's thigh. He kissed Steve hard, hands wandering down to peel the robe open until Steve was all but naked. The seam of Tony's pants rubbed against his rapidly hardening cock. "God, you're so beautiful. And so needy," Tony hissed in his ear.

Tony abandoned Steve's jaw and drifted lower, drawing a path with his hot mouth and wet tongue. He stopped at Steve's nipple and  _ sucked.  _

"Oh, shit." Steve arched up into the slick friction. "Tony - oh."

"Like that, do you?" Tony licked a swathe over Steve's nipple then sucked at it again. "You're so sensitive. You going to be filthy for me tonight, Macduff."

"Anything you want," Steve breathed. It was so easy to forget around Tony, forget what had brought him here. He felt high already, head spinning pleasantly and skin buzzing with need. And Tony kept torturing his nipples, sucking and licking and biting. 

Tony's hands skated up Steve's sides then one wrapped around his wrist and eased his hand under the edge of the couch, followed by the other one. "Hold on," he whispered, hot breath tickling Steve's ear. 

"Oh my god." 

Tony worked his way down Steve's chest, inspecting every inch of him. One hand curled possessively over Steve's hipbone, the other teasing his nipple idly while his mouth explored elsewhere. Steve didn't know what to do. If he'd considered the chance that last time with Tony had been a fluke and this time would be different, that thought was obliterated by Tony's hands reverently stroking over his skin. He felt the urge to remind Tony that he was just a hooker, not someone he should care about or need to charm. But it felt too good to say anything that might make him stop, to say anything at all. 

Tony settled on his stomach on the carpet between Steve's thighs. He hooked Steve's leg over his shoulder and set to work kissing and biting his way up Steve's leg. He sucked a bruise in the meat of Steve's upper thigh and Steve's breath evaporated. His cock throbbed against his stomach, aching with how completely Tony was ignoring it. He gripped the underside of the couch until it creaked, every muscle tensed with the effort of not thrusting up to find friction against Tony's skin. 

Tony hummed and grabbed a handful of the robe that pooled under Steve's back. He rocked back up to his knees and held a hand out to Steve. "Let's take this somewhere more comfortable. I'm getting a bit old for fucking on the floor."

Steve shivered and took Tony's hand, letting himself be pulled up to his feet. Tony shoved the robe off his shoulders and nuzzled into his neck. 

"How are you so goddamn pretty?"

Steve clutched a handful of Tony's shirt and whined. "Tony, please."

"Need something I'm not giving you, gorgeous?"

Steve shifted forward until his weeping cock pushed hard against Tony's stomach. Tony chuckled and ran his fingertips down Steve's spine to tease his ass, leaving a trail of electrified nerves in his wake. Tony had barely touched him, but Steve felt like he was on a knife's edge already, ready to explode in a heartbeat.

Tony pulled him into the bedroom and pushed him to his knees next to the bed. He stood in front of him. "Open that filthy mouth. Show me that tongue."

Steve obediently opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue. 

"You're such a filthy cocksucker - I remember that. God, I remember it like it was yesterday." Tony ran his thumb over Steve's upper lip then leaned over him to open a drawer. He came back with a bottle of lube which he tossed on the bed and a condom which he handed to Steve. Steve worked Tony's pants open and took his cock out, stroking it a few times just to feel the smooth, hot skin in his hand. He ripped open the condom and slid it over Tony's cock, following his hand with his mouth when Tony grabbed a handful of his hair and jerked him forward. 

"Fuck, that's so good. You're such a dirty slut, spending all that time practicing so you can take such good care of me."

Steve moaned, swirling his tongue around the head of Tony's cock.

"Desperate, aren't you? Bet you could come just from my cock down your throat." Tony rocked forward, cutting off Steve's air supply for a moment then pulled back, letting Steve take over the rhythm again.

Steve expected to be on more solid ground with this - blowjobs he knew - but the way Tony's fingers twined through his hair, the little kicks of his hips, the way he smelled - like spice and sweat and sex - it was making Steve feel dizzy and untethered. He didn't remember his tricks, his experience, but he was so desperate to make Tony feel good that it didn't matter. He threw himself into getting Tony off with all he had, and every moan and grind and twitch sent a shockwave of arousal deep into his core.

"Okay, okay - hold on." Tony pushed him back. "Fuck, that's going to make me come. And I have a better idea." Tony pulled him up to his feet again then turned him to face the bed, pressing up close behind him. "Can I fuck you, baby?"

"Yes. Yes please." Steve couldn't help rubbing back against Tony; the zipper of his jeans bit the soft skin of Steve's ass and made him twitch. No one else had ever made him happy to beg before.

"Bend over." Heated command curled through Tony's voice and he pressed against the back of Steve's neck until he folded forward, his chest on the mattress and his ass in the air. The bottle snapped and then slick fingers pressed at Steve's hole. Tony's other hands petted down his spine and over the curve of his ass. "You're a goddamn piece of art," Tony hummed, more to himself than to Steve.

Steve resisted the urge to squirm on Tony's fingers as they stretched him open, found every tingling nerve with unerring accuracy. He had a feeling the more eager he appeared to be, the more Tony would delight in taking his time. But when Tony pressed against his prostate, Steve couldn't hold back the shudder that rippled down his spine.

How could Tony take him apart so easily with just one touch? Steve felt like he'd known Tony for a hundred years, his touch familiar and grounding, but they barely knew each other. It was a heady, dizzy sensation to be at Tony's mercy like this, not just physically, but down to his core. It felt dangerous too.

Tony's teeth landed on his ass and Steve yelped, clenching around Tony's fingers and making him rumble with a low growl. "You ready?"

Steve nodded furiously, afraid of how breathless his voice would come out. He expected Tony to just push right into him, but instead, he pulled Steve back and climbed on the bed. He'd lost his clothes while he was fingering Steve open, and Steve took a moment, to enjoy the view of lean, tight muscles and tanned olive skin. 

Tony crooked a finger at Steve, stroking his hand idly up and down his cock. Steve climbed up on the bed and straddled Tony's hips. Tony pushed at Steve's elbows until his arms bent up on either side of his head, hands tucked behind his neck. "Keep them there." He petted his fingers over Steve's face then hooked his thumb over bottom lip, eyes fluttering shut when Steve sucked hard. He eased Steve down until he could feel the press of his cock against his slick hole. "Ride me, baby."

Steve slid down Tony's cock with a moan that shuddered down his spine. Tony stretched him wide and filled him up. He rolled his hips and Tony moaned. Hot fingers explored every inch of his skin, pointedly skirting around his cock and he was  _ aching.  _ "Please," he couldn't help gasping out, rocking up and down on Tony's cock with no touch for his own.

But every thrust of his hips was driving Tony against his prostate, and pleasure built in a jagged staircase of gasps and moans, until he was so close he knew just one stroke would push him over. Tony purred and teased his nipple again, rocking his hips with Steve's movements. Then Steve shifted and Tony groaned, eyes squeezing shut. He grabbed Steve by both hips and silently urged him to move faster. 

Steve twisted his fingers together behind his head and bit his bottom lip, rolling his hips as fast as he could, chasing his pleasure. Tony's hands clenched and released on his hips in a steady rhythm, chest heaving with gasps. His head was thrown back, throat a taut line as his mouth worked with silent words.

"Tony,  _ please,"  _ Steve begged, digging his nails into his scalp to keep from touching himself. His cock slapped against his stomach each thrust sending a shockwave straight to the weeping tip.

"God, you're amazing," Tony breathed, then his hand came down and wrapped around Steve's cock, gripping firm, stroking roughly.

Steve swore and shuddered forward, coming almost immediately, spraying over Tony's chest He curved in on himself, feeling wobbly as he stared down at his spent cock.

"Don't stop," Tony demanded, shoving at his hips urgently. 

Steve groaned and started rocking back and forth again, his muscles whimpering with the effort. Tony spewed forth a torrent of words, encouraging, filthy, skin-heating words that made Steve never want to stop, even though the pressure of Tony's cock against his prostate was making his nerves scream with overstimulation. 

"I'm gonna come, don't stop." Tony's fingernails dug in. "Yeah, ride me, baby." Tony's eyes snapped open and deep brown met Steve's. "You're so good at that, gorgeous, so naughty. Bet you could ride me all night. Bet you'd come again if I wasn't so fucking close to blowing."

Steve gasped and swallowed heavily. Tony was probably right. It would be right on the edge of pain and pleasure, but his cock was staying hard with the continued stimulation. "Please, Tony." he begged. "Come for me."

_ "Nuh _ \- since you asked so nicely -" Tony braced his feet on the mattress and arched back, holding onto Steve with a bruising grip on both hips. He thrust up to meet Steve's rocking, setting of fireworks of pleasure at the new angle, then he pulled Steve down onto him and sighed. Steve could feel Tony throbbing his release deep inside him, jerking with every wave of pleasure which made Steve clench down on him harder. 

Steve pitched forward, chest heaving, only managing to catch himself with a hand smacked against the headboard at the last minute. "Oh my god." 

Tony's hands skated up his sides then eased him down onto his side next to him. Their gazes locked and they did nothing more than stare at each other for a while, breathing slowly sinking back to normal. 

Tony was so undeniably beautiful in the moment, and Steve's heart clenched painfully. His eyes glittered, sweat beaded up on his neck and sticking dark curls to his hairline. He was so accessible like this, almost touchable, but Steve wasn't quite close enough after all, as much as he wished he was. Tony was worlds away, his closeness an illusion that Steve couldn't afford to fall into. 

Once he was breathing normally again, Steve broke their tense staring contest and rose from the bed. He threw out the condom, rescuing the lube from a tangle of sheets and placing it on Tony's bedside table. 

"Let's clean up," Tony said, bouncing to his feet with a sudden rush of energy. He dragged Steve to the bathroom and switched the opulent shower on. Steve found himself under the hot spray for the second time in only a few hours, but he opted to rinse himself off and help Tony wash his hair instead of giving his a second go.

Tony groaned and leaned back against him when Steve started working the shampoo in with firm fingers, rubbing over his scalp then down his neck. 

They dried off with fluffy towels then Tony padded out to the living room - buck naked - and came back with the robe Steve had been wearing. He tossed it to him. "You're staying the night, right?"

Steve opened his mouth then closed it again. He shouldn't. Sleeping beside Tony all night wasn't going to help his little crush. He also shouldn't get used to 500 thread count sheets and a mattress as thick as a vault door since his next night's sleep was probably going to be on a cardboard box in an alley somewhere. But he had nowhere else to go, it was cold, and Tony was offering. He felt safe here, even though his heart was dangerously at risk, and he couldn't bring himself to say no. "If that's okay."

"Course it is, gorgeous. Never going to pass up an opportunity for a sleepover with you. It's like sleeping with a heated body pillow. Best night I've had in a long time on that shitty futon of yours."

Steve snorted. "If I'd known royalty was coming over, I would have borrowed something nicer."

Tony stepped forward and pressed his whole body against Steve's, his shower-heated skin radiating right through the soft plush of the robe Steve had slipped into. "Oh don't worry about that… who needs a nice bed when I have you to sleep on?"

Steve swallowed heavily and watched, rapt, as Tony traced a finger down the front of his chest to the tie of the robe. Impulsively, Steve leaned in and drew Tony into a rough kiss. Tony hummed and opened to it, letting Steve wrap his arms tightly around Tony's waist and haul him close. Steve traced the edge of Tony's lips with his tongue then pushed past the seam, tasting the breath Tony had panted against his shoulder. 

When they parted, Tony's eyes were slow to flutter open again. "So I can take that as a yes to staying?"

Steve smiled. "Yes, I'll stay."

"Perfect. Still early. What do you want to do?" Tony stretched tall, something popping, then took a robe of his own off the hook, leading Steve back out into the living room. 

Steve shrugged. He usually hung out at the bar looking for Johns until it was late enough that he was exhausted and he staggered home to bed. "What do you normally do?" It didn't feel like Tony was testing him, but all the same, Steve felt like there was a right answer that he couldn't come up with.  

Tony found their plates behind the couch and brought them into the kitchen. He pried open one of the containers and started popping shrimp in his mouth, offering it to Steve. They stood side-by-side, leaning against the counter, and worked their way through the rest of the container. "Is it too domestic to watch TV?" Tony asked, eyes glittering with something amused. 

"Course not."

"Alright." Tony tossed the empty container and took Steve's hand, pulling him back to the couch. He deposited Steve on the cushions then climbed on top of him, managing to wrap himself around Steve like an octopus and still have a clear view of the massive flat screen. With an armful of Tony settled comfortably against his chest, it occurred to Steve for the first time that it was weird a man like Tony would hire a hooker for this - for any of this.

Tony was incredibly hot, rich, famous, kind, funny, and easy going. He was romantic at heart, but sizzlingly sexy when he turned it on, and he was amazing in bed. It was kind of crazy that Tony was shelling out cash to have Steve here, when he could walk into any bar in the country and immediately have four or five hotties hanging off his arms - men and women. 

And it was becoming increasingly clear that Tony was a bit touch starved, or at least, that he really enjoyed being touched. Steve wasn't sure why he was the one Tony was touching, but he found it hard to complain when Tony's fingers started petting lines up the inside of his knee, his other arm wrapped around Steve's bicep, holding Steve's arm around him. Steve leaned his cheek against Tony's head and tried to push it from his mind. Who cared why? He was here now, and there was every chance he wouldn't get to be here again, so he should enjoy it.

They watched TV for a few hours. Steve tried to follow the show, and Tony was diligent in explaining everything he'd missed to him, but Tony's warm weight in his arms and the safety of his penthouse apartment, the soft cushions of the couch, and a full stomach of food - not to mention a mind-blowing orgasm - had Steve fighting sleep almost immediately. It was several episodes before Tony noticed.

"Hey," he said softly, and Steve jerked back to full wakefulness.

"Sorry." Steve blinked at him.

Tony chuckled. "Don't be sorry. Let's go to bed, sleepyhead."

Steve followed Tony back into the bedroom, noting for the first time that the duffle bag he'd left in the elevator was now at the foot of Tony's bed. He wondered when Tony had moved it in there, knowing he ought to be embarrassed, but instead he was just relieved that Tony didn't seem to care. It was a tiny touch that made Steve feel like he was welcome here. 

They both dropped their robes and crawled into bed. Tony climbed on top and kissed Steve, deep and heated for a long time, but he didn't take it any further, and eventually, he settled on Steve's chest, one hand curled possessively around his hip.

It didn't take long at all for the pull of sleep to drag Steve under.

**

Steve woke early, a night on a billionaire's mattress apparently worth ten times what he usually got in half the time. Tony was sprawled close beside Steve, the two of them crammed in the middle of the massive king-sized bed. His hand rested high on Steve's thigh, fingers teasingly close to his morning wood. 

Steve turned and stared at the tufts of brown hair that stuck out of the blankets by the lump that was Tony. He wanted to stay more than anything which was exactly why he had to leave. Tony would be fine with it, Steve was sure. Tony seemed fine with the idea of Steve being there forever; he honestly couldn't imagine being kicked out. He could go back to sleep, and make pancakes in the morning, keep wearing Tony's robe until it was his, and live the good life for free.

But it wouldn't be real.

They'd never be able to go out, be together in public. He wouldn't be Tony's boyfriend, he'd be his property, hidden here in the tower, a sex toy to be taken out whenever Tony got lonely. And one day, Tony would find someone real, and he'd say goodbye - kindly, Steve was sure - but he'd leave, and all Steve would have left would be some cash, a robe he'd worn a hole in that once was Tony's, and a broken heart. 

He couldn't risk it.

Steve slipped out of bed and into the bathroom with his duffle. He brushed his teeth in the grey dawn light from the window then got dressed, layering up in case he spent most of the day - and maybe night - outside in the cold. 

Steve resisted the urge to look at Tony's sleeping face as he tiptoed past the bed and back out to the living room. He felt a heavy draw pulling him back, like a magnet, an insidious voice whispering  _ go back to bed, it'll be alright, just for now.  _ He had to be more careful. He stepped out into the crisp early-morning air and tugged his jacket closed around him. New York was turning out to be a risky move.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Visit me on tumblr at festiveferret.tumblr.com <3
> 
> EDIT: Due to popular demand I will be continuing this story, though I can't promise quick updates. Info is [here.](http://festiveferret.tumblr.com/post/174564738740/yet-i-will-try-the-last)


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